(AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN…) HAPPIER

For reasons she did not bother to examine too closely, Taylor felt lighter. More so than she had felt after the conversation with Jessica Yamada. The tension that had followed her for days no longer pressed quite so tightly against her ribs, giving her just enough room to breathe.

Part of her suspected it would fade the moment she looked at it too directly, the way other small comforts had slipped through her fingers when she tried to hold onto them. So, in a way, it was easier to let it exist as it was..

If she had to guess, it might have had something to do with Emma.

Seeing her like that had been… something. It wasn't satisfying, at least not in the way she might have expected weeks ago, and not enough to undo what had been done. Emma had looked smaller, stripped of the certainty she had once worn so easily, and the image had stayed with Taylor longer than she would have liked.

It did not make things better.

It did not make things worse.

It just… was.

Taylor adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she walked, her steps falling into an easy rhythm. The city moved around her in the same steady way it always did, traffic passing, voices rising and falling as people went about their day, and the distant sounds of something ongoing that did not concern her for once.

She found herself keeping pace with it instead of bracing against it.

By the time she reached home, she found herself skipping slightly, humming a tone under her breath.

Her dad noticed almost immediately.

He was in the kitchen when she stepped inside, halfway through setting something on the counter, and he paused when he saw her, his attention sharpening in a way she had come to recognize. His gaze lingered for a second longer than usual, as if he were trying to place what had changed.

“You’re in a good mood,” he said.

It was not quite a question.

Taylor slipped her shoes off by the door and stepped further inside, setting her bag down with a muffled thud.

“I guess,” she said.

The answer felt sufficient.

He watched her for another moment, then nodded once, something in his expression easing even if he did not comment on it further. 

Dinner came together without much discussion.

Taylor found herself moving through the motions beside him without being asked, reaching for utensils, pulling ingredients from the fridge, and falling into something familiar that she had not realized she had missed. There was a simplicity to it, something that did not demand anything from her beyond attention.

They spoke now and then, the conversation light, drifting from one topic to another without ever settling anywhere for long. It did not need to. The pauses between words were not uncomfortable, and the silence that followed them felt companionable rather than strained.

At one point, her dad said something about work, and she listened without having to force herself to focus, responding when it felt natural instead of out of obligation. The exchange was small, and for that reason alone it felt more meaningful than it should have.

When they sat down to eat, the silence returned.

Taylor did not mind it.

The food was warm, delicious, and she ate without the usual undercurrent of distraction pulling at her attention. Each bite grounded her a little more, anchoring her in the moment in a way that had been difficult to manage before.

Across from her, her dad seemed content to let the silence stand, his body more relaxed than it had been in days.

Nothing needed to be said.

Afterward, she helped clean up without thinking about it, rinsing dishes and stacking them to dry while he wiped down the counters. The routine carried them through the rest of the evening with the same ease that had settled over everything else.

When Taylor finally made her way to her room, the feeling had not faded.

It lingered as she changed, as she set her things aside, as she sat on the edge of her bed for a moment longer than necessary. And when she finally lay back, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifted without settling anywhere in particular, never circling back into the patterns she had come to expect. The loops, the explosions, the constant need to anticipate and react, all of it felt distant for once, as though it had been set aside rather than waiting just out of sight.

It would come back.

She knew that.

It always did.

But for now, her mind was quiet.

Taylor let her eyes close.

Sleep came easily.

And for the first time in a while, it found her already smiling.